Stepping Stones
by quirkette100
Summary: A series of loosely connected stories about our two favourite idiots and the all-important 'stepping-stones' in their relationship, as they move from adversaries to friends to something more.
1. Chapter One

**Stepping Stones.**

AN: This is my attempt at filling in some of the blank Shandy spaces left by the show and its evil troll overlord, James Duff, starting in season one. I've tried to stay fairly close to canon and to stay in-character, so it's safe to say that this will be a slow-burning fic. Yeah, sorry about that. :/

Chapter One is set in S1x01 (Reloaded). I remember reading somewhere that Duff said this was the ep in which Sharon gained Andy's respect and I wanted to spend some time exploring that. Special thanks to Tvfreakd for looking this over in the very early stages, to Winsomewitch for the beautiful cover pic, and to Olafurneal, my knowledgeable beta. All mistakes remain mine as I've probably altered this after her editing… Hope you enjoy!

* * *

The past is a stepping stone, not a millstone _._

\- Robert Plant

* * *

 **Chapter One: Not a Millstone.**

Tao was checking bullet trajectories when he noticed it – a flash of navy that slipped from his line of sight as quickly as it had entered. "What the-?!" Panning right and adjusting for focus he bit back a groan. Navy trench-coat. Never a good sign. Bracing himself, he dipped his monocular down the length of two remarkably toned legs, elongated by a pair of pumps his wife would give her right arm for. Louboutin's, if the red lacquered soles were anything to go by. Definitely not a good sign.

Hoping against all available evidence that he wasn't about to see Captain Sharon Raydor at the perimeter of the crime scene, Tao pulled the monocular away from his eye.

Captain Sharon Raydor stood at the perimeter of the crime scene, circling the four bodies that were quietly oozing blood onto the hot parking-lot asphalt. And she did _not_ look pleased.

Struck by the sudden urge to re-asses the other side of the parking lot, Tao beat a hasty retreat in the opposite direction. He did, however, manage to cough out a warning to the rest of the team as he hurried past the incident tent. "Wicked Witch, eleven o'clock!"

Inside the tent Lieutenant Provenza swore loudly. "The scent of blood and officer-involved shooting must have summoned her," he groused, lifting his eyes from the on-site murder board and jerking his head towards the exit. "Flynn?"

Nodding, Andy stepped towards the tarp's edge. It took only a moment to locate the figure everyone else seemed to be giving a wide berth at eleven o'clock. "It's her."

Provenza let lose a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush. Andy thought he heard something that sounded suspiciously like 'why me?' nestled amongst the profanity and couldn't help but chuckle, "Hey, give it an hour, maybe two, and she'll be back on her broom!"

This drew an involuntary snort from the third person in the tent.

"You are both aware that I'm filming this, right?"

Provenza glared in the direction of Buzz's camera. At 4K resolution it was not a pretty sight. "If you have a problem with our conduct, Mr. Watson, you can edit that blasted thing later. Just remember that this crime scene is Robbery-Homicide and FID's screw up, not ours, and that we have an armed madman to locate!"

Buzz waited until the Lieutenant turned back to murder board before rolling his eyes. Provenza knew that editing crime-scene footage was illegal. He just wanted to send Raydor a message, should she review the recording... which they all knew she would. "It's a good job I understand your sense of humour," Buzz murmured, ducking out of the tent to join Julio and the coroner by the bodies.

Andy watched him go, hovering near the edge of the tarp. He was supposed to be liaising with Special Agent Howard on the identities of their killers – veterans, most likely – but a quick scan of the parking lot told him that Fritz was still on the phone, and the ominous staccato of heels was getting nearer…

Figuring it wouldn't hurt to look occupied, Andy pulled a notebook from his pocket and started making illegible case notes. Raydor really hated those. He was just starting page two, taking care to make his handwriting as close to 'chicken-scratch' as possible, when Chief Taylor strode into his peripheral vision. Taylor at a crime scene was odd in itself, but what really drew Andy's attention was the way Raydor was instantly on the defensive, stance widening, hands finding her hips through her trademark coat. Now that _was_ interesting.

Pretending to focus on his notes Andy strolled out from the tent, watching through curious glances as Taylor interrupted the ice queen's lonely orbit. He couldn't hear much from his position – their voices were carefully muted – but their body language spoke volumes. The chief seemed to dominate the conversation, hands puncturing the air repeatedly as a thick grin sallowed his face. Raydor looked… well, like Raydor always did: grim-faced and tight-lipped and hotter than hell. That irritated Andy to no end. Luckily, Taylor and Raydor's conversation continued only for about a minute more before the Captain gave a sharp nod and veered towards the incident tent, forcing Andy to duck back inside.

"…they split up to enter the store – never did that before. They hit a place with a silent alarm – never did that before," Detective Miller shook his head, looking away from Provenza towards the bodies. "I just thought these guys were smarter than this."

"Incoming," Andy warned, sidling up to them.

Miller took one look over Andy's shoulder and visibly paled. "I'd better check on Sykes – you know, make sure she's okay… Find me later if you have further questions."

Provenza groaned as Miller double-timed it out of the tent, nearly crashing into one of the tarp's supports in his haste to escape. "Ye gawds, Flynn," he muttered with a shake of his head. "That woman puts the fear of FID into- Captain!" With a smile that was half scowl, half grimace, Provenza turned to welcome his 'favourite' member of Force Investigation Division into the tent.

Preparing for another dressing down, Andy did the same.

Sharon strode towards them, chin up, "Lieutenant Provenza, Lieutenant Flynn, sorry to be running so behind." She pressed her lips together as Taylor blundered in behind her, sans grace. Every bone in her body was telling her that today was not the day for this, not with three divisions and the FBI working on an officer-involved shooting, but Taylor was adamant; it was now or never. Her hands were tied. "Could you bring me up to speed?"

Andy felt the tell-tale rush of heat that accompanied a spike in his blood pressure. Who the hell did Raydor think they were – her flying FID monkeys?! He met Provenza's gaze, seeing his own thoughts reflected back at him, and together the men turned their backs on Raydor. It was a childish way of undermining her authority to be sure, but it got the job done. "Flynn," Provenza ground out, jaw clenched, "make sure that paperwork is in order so when Agent-"

"Lieutenants."

The sound of Taylor's displeasure cut through the conversation like a scalpel, sharp and precise. Andy tamped down on his anger, following Provenza's lead as he turned back to face the Chief (and Raydor) reluctantly. If he didn't know any better he'd almost say she looked uncomfortable…

"The Captain was transferred from Force Investigation Division to Major Crimes," Taylor announced, without preamble or fanfare, as straight as he could shoot it, "making her your ranking officer – effective immediately."

Provenza nearly laughed out loud. For a second there, he'd honestly thought Taylor had said-

"And I need a briefing," Raydor observed, pointedly.

Andy blinked.

Once, when he was around nine or ten, Josh Parker had dared him to climb the tallest tree in their neighbourhood. Being young and eager to impress, Andy had agreed. He was twelve feet up when the branch gave out beneath his sneakers, plunging him (and it) downwards. The force of his back meeting the ground knocked every wisp of breath from his lungs; he couldn't inhale, couldn't exhale… he just lay there, stunned.

That was exactly how Andy felt now.

Raydor's gaze was on him, cool and calculating. She seemed to be searching for something in his expression – probably assessing him, finding him wanting. He watched as her eyes narrowed just a fraction before flickering over to Provenza, resting heavily there. "Briefing, Lieutenant. Now."

Yup, Andy observed, the world once more slipped out from under his feet. They were screwed.

Little did he know that Sharon was thinking much the same thing.

* * *

Later, as the Wicked Witch was settling into her new office, rearranging furniture so that the desk was facing the murder room – facing them, Andy reflected that they probably should have seen this one coming. Taylor had never been a fan of Major Crimes, especially since Chief Johnson's civil suit… so there was no way in hell he'd trust the leadership of their division to one of their own, even if the person in line really deserved it. It was goddamn politics, plain and simple.

The reign of Raydor unfolded in front of Andy like a slow-speed car crash; Provenza would resign, he and Julio would be chained to their desks and anger management sessions, Buzz would go one snarky comment too far and get dismissed... Tao might make it, he thought optimistically.

When Provenza pulled a cardboard box from storage and started packing up his desk, Andy's fists clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white.

* * *

By mid-afternoon his thoughts were downright mutinous. Propped against a wall outside of the morgue, Andy knew that he was scowling but couldn't bring himself to stop. Who the hell was Raydor to be giving _them_ orders? Did Taylor really think a few weeks observing Major Crimes was all it took to solve murders?! The whole thing was a joke.

Sharon chose to ignore Andy as she glanced up from the file Agent Howard had dropped off. As a member of FID she'd had neither the time nor the inclination to indulge every minor act of insubordination, and she wasn't about to start now. "Lieutenant Tao," she said instead, addressing the more co-operative member of the team. "Do you think we should try and find out if our marine private here- uuuh, what's his name?"

Andy's scowl deepened.

"Randall John," Tao replied, side-eyeing him warily.

"Yes," Sharon agreed. "Do you think we should find out if Private John and the young man Lieutenant Flynn spoke to in the car were shot with the same gun?"

Tao dipped his head, "I'll get _right_ on that."

She thanked him distractedly, letting his sarcasm slide, and returned her attention to the FBI file.

Andy knew a dismissal when he saw one and stubbornly settled more of his weight against the corridor wall. If the Wicked Witch though she could get rid of him that easily, she had another thing coming. Tao caught his eye as he headed for the lifts, seemingly unsurprised when Andy shook his head. "See you later then," Tao murmured, though it sounded suspiciously more like 'your funeral' than anything else.

In a matter of seconds Tao's footsteps faded away around the bend of the corridor, leaving behind a heavy silence in their wake.

They were alone.

For a moment, neither Captain nor Lieutenant moved. Andy kept his glare firmly fixed on Raydor's face, and Sharon maintained her focus on the FBI file. But as the silence stretched taut between them, becoming fragile – brittle – Sharon knew that it would be unwise to ignore Andy's anger any longer. It was simmering just below the surface, contained, but barely so. Much better that he got it off his chest now, in private, than blow up in the middle of the murder room. Bracing herself for an oncoming storm, she dragged her eyes away from the file to consider him, coolly, over the rim of her glasses. " _Yes_?"

A fresh wave of anger surged through Andy, hot and heady. He wanted to take Raydor by the shoulders and _shake_ until her composure cracked. He wanted to scream that she couldn't do this – she couldn't just swoop in on her goddamn broom and ruin everything Major Crimes had worked for, for the last seven years.

But he didn't.

Instead he used a technique he'd picked up in one of those anger management courses she tormented officers with, and pulled a long, deep breath of formaldehyde-tinged air into his lungs. "The kid you're describing as 'the young man in the car'? Call him Larry Martin." He pushed himself off the morgue wall, towering above her. "When working homicide it's good to know your victims by name. And I have to tell you, Captain, in the custody of any other police department in this country, Larry would have been taken someplace safe and allowed to confess – which he was ready to do!"

Andy took a step forward, wanting to intimidate, but Raydor stood her ground, manila folder tucked carefully into her chest. The urge to shake her returned tenfold. "But, because of some _bullshit_ regulation that you put into place at FID, some _stupid_ policy that when shots are fired, suspects must remain at a crime scene, Larry Martin got his head shot off!" He was close to yelling now, satisfaction shooting through him when Raydor's gaze dropped to the floor. Good. Let her sweat. Let her feel the weight of what she'd done. "Every single problem that we're having in this investigation- especially not knowing who the hell we're looking for- every problem we're having is because of _you_!"

She had heard enough. Thrusting the folder into his chest Sharon stepped backwards, tearing her protective morgue scrubs off in three precise movements. "Andy," she said, plunging the gown into the bin on her left. "You are right about that."

Surprise seeped into his expression.

"The LAPD is the only police department in this country that would have held Larry Martin on-site for questioning," she reminded, head tilted, waiting for him to catch up.

"Yeah?" Andy's mind was whirring a mile a minute, struggling to switch from pissed-off subordinate to pissed-off detective. Then the same brainwave that must have hit Raydor struck Andy, "Yeah!"

"So how did the killer know that he could circle back around and Larry Martin would still be there?!"

For the first time since she had joined their investigation, Andy decided Sharon Raydor had a point. "That's a very good question," he admitted, sinking onto the bench at the side of the corridor. He started flipping through the Gun Heaven user list, certain he'd missed something…

Sharon perched on the bench's edge. "When you think about it, these young men seem to know quite a lot about the LAPD's investigation." She peered around his shoulder, almost birdlike, "Didn't Detective Miller say that he tried to predict their targets, but every store he was sitting on, they were somewhere else?"

He nodded, still working his way through the user list. "And Miller said every male member of his family had been in the military… _every_ male member, including his son, who I bet lives at home." Trailing a finger down the alphabetised list, Andy came to a stop under one _G. Miller_. Surprise gave way to a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach. So that was how the group of veterans had always been one step ahead of Robbery/Homicide… They'd had an inside man.

"Greg is Detective Miller's youngest son," he managed, meeting Raydor's sad gaze. Even as the words tumbled from his mouth he realized that she'd already pieced it together for herself.

Rising from the bench, she nodded grimly. "Let's bring him in."

* * *

Later, after the DDA made a deal with Greg that nearly had Provenza storming from the room, Andy admitted that he might have underestimated Raydor a little… Okay, a lot. The damn woman had picked up on the oneclue that had led to Greg's arrest; the veterans had consistently been one step ahead of the LAPD, for months. That sort of thing didn't just happen by chance. Miller would never have suspected his own son of being part of the group he was working to bring down, nor realized he was unwittingly feeding them information every night at his own dinner table. And, as much as Andy hated to acknowledge it, it was unlikely that anyone in Major Crimes would have thought to look at one of their own as a potential leak… even after Gabriel.

But Raydor had. It was second nature for her to be critical of LAPD officers and, in the end, her experience of FID investigations had actually been a help to the case instead of a hindrance. Andy chuckled bitterly. Raydor being useful... God, he needed a meeting.

Scrubbing a hand over his just-emerging stubble, he started shutting down his computer, surprised to spot Agent Howard moving through the empty murder room with what looked like a paper-bag crumpled under one arm.

"Flynn," Fritz greeted, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Never one for subtlety, Andy stared pointedly at the bag. Fritz came to a halt by Andy's desk. "Apparently Brenda left some… important items in her desk drawer," he explained, scratching his neck.

Eyebrows rising towards his hairline, Andy leaned back in his chair, "You on a Ding Dog run, Special Agent?"

"Tell anyone about this and not even the FBI will be able to find your body."

Andy grinned. The chief still loved her Ding Dongs. There was a comfort in that familiarity. "Well, Provenza's got the place all 'warmed up' for you," he joked, jabbing a thumb towards the office behind him.

Fritz took a few steps towards Raydor's door, stopping when he could see the tense lines of Provenza's back and the Captain's icy expression through the half-drawn blinds. "You know, she's not all bad, once you get to know her…"

"Really."

There was the sarcasm Flynn was famous for. Fritz smiled, turning back to face him. "Really. Guess who filed as Rusty's emergency guardian?"

If Andy hadn't been sitting down, he probably would have fallen down. "She's taking the kid in?!"

"Filled two days ago," Fritz confirmed. "Guess she knew no one else would." Arching a dark eyebrow, he stepped up to Raydor's office and gave the door a quick rap. "See ya, Flynn."

Fritz let himself in and something suspiciously like shame settled in Andy's gut. Luckily he didn't have time to dwell on it as Provenza blustered out of the office, nearly-but-not-quite slamming the door behind Fritz.

Andy was on his feet in an instant. "How'd it go?"

"It went." Provenza stomped over to his desk, ignoring the boxes he'd packed earlier in favour of snatching up his jacket and car keys. "See you tomorrow," he shot over his shoulder, muttering darkly to himself as he headed for the elevators.

"See you tomorrow," Andy echoed weakly, alone in the murder room once more.

Well, at least Provenza hadn't resigned. That was something.

Turning to face Raydor's office, he watched as Fritz and the Captain finished emptying out Chief Johnson's treat drawer, chatting amicably together. Something in his heart pulled painfully when Fritz handed the last Ding Dong to Raydor, instead of bagging it with the others. It was just a cake, Andy reasoned, but it felt final somehow – like the passing of a torch. Then, in a move that surprised him, Raydor tucked the Ding Dong away into a tatty old rucksack at the edge of her desk.

Rusty, he realized. She was giving it to Rusty.

Disgusted (though with who he was unwilling to say), Andy swiped his jacket from the back of his chair and headed for the exit. If traffic was good he'd make the tail end of the 7 pm AA meeting near Echo Park. If not, he'd wait in a diner for the 8:30. Either way, he had some things he needed to get off his chest… like God help them all, Raydor might actually be good at this.

It was a terrifying thought.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two: Olive Branches.**

AN: Hello, dear readers! Thank you so much for your kind words, follows, and faves. I wasn't sure that people would be interested in going back to S1 to explore pre-ship Shandy with me, so it's gratifying to know that there is interest for this fic. :)

This chapter is set sometime between 1x01 (Reloaded) and 1x03 (Medical Causes), when Sharon is still having teething problems with Rusty and the team…

Special thanks again to my wonderful beta, Olafurneal.

* * *

"Sharon Raydor had enough strength to overcome the need to try to make people like her. And it was in that resistance that people started to accept her and then grow fond of her, because she wasn't asking them to change."

\- Mary McDonnell.

* * *

"Right, I've got one Americano, no milk..."

Julio nodded, accepting the cardboard cup that was quickly thrust in his direction.

"Two Americanos with a dash of milk…?"

"Mine and Tao's," Buzz called, strolling forward to collect both drinks from the division's delivery girl with a smirk. No longer being considered the team 'newbie' had its perks.

Amy had to squint to make out the writing on the lid of the next cup. "One… uh, double-shot latte, extra-hot, or at least it was…"

"Thanks, Sykes," Andy said appreciatively. He tapped two fingers to his temple in a cheeky salute as she passed over the caffeine fix he'd been craving all morning.

"No problem, Lieutenant." She glanced down at the last cardboard cup in the carry-out tray, besides her own. "So that means the non-fat vanilla latte belongs to-"

"Me," Provenza grumbled, waiting with outstretched arm for Amy to walk his coffee over to him before snatching it out of the tray. From behind his desk he glared up at her. "What took you so long, Sykes? We've been waiting at least forty minutes!"

Amy took a slow sip from her own take-out cup, shrugging a little. "Big accident down town. I got caught in diverted traffic on the way back. Anyway," she continued brightly, not in the least bit perturbed by her superior's crabby attitude as she lowered a brown paper bag onto his desk. "I hope you like muffins. I complained when they mixed up half of our order with someone else's and got a dozen thrown in for free!"

Andy had to bite the inside of his cheek when Provenza instantly perked up. If there was a direct line to his partner's heart it was definitely through free food. He watched in amusement as Amy started calling out different flavours of muffin, crowding the team around her like a master puppeteer. He had to hand it to her; she was green but she was well on way to winning everyone over. Even the kid had wandered over to see what all the fuss was about.

"Don't think this means anything," Rusty warned, catching Amy's hopeful expression when he pulled a muffin loaded with cherries from the bag. "I still think you should be spending more time looking for my mom. Especially her," he jerked his chin towards Raydor's office.

Andy rolled his eyes. They'd all heard enough about the kid's mom to last a lifetime – how she was misunderstood and only wanted they best for him, how she was planning on dumping her "jerk of a boyfriend" and coming back to pick him up… When Rusty plonked himself back into his 'protest seat' outside of Raydor's office, tugging his hood over his mop of blond hair, Andy couldn't help but wonder if he realized the inherent contradiction in expecting his mother to return of her own accord and expecting them to search for her.

"What's all this?"

For a woman in five inch heels, she sure as hell could move quietly. Andy twisted to see Raydor emerging from her office, neatly sidestepping Rusty's awkwardly placed chair. She looked tired but satisfied; the budget meeting with Taylor must have been productive.

"Captain!" Amy fumbled to hide her coffee behind her back, only succeeding in drawing more attention to it. "We were, uh- I mean-"

Chin raised, chest puffed out, Provenza squared off with Raydor across the room. "I sent Sykes here on a coffee run. I hope that's okay…"

Andy watched as her eyes swept over the group, falling on each member of the team and their corresponding take-out cup. Rusty took a large bite of cherry muffin, chewing pointedly in her direction. The sound of it turned her head. "Of course, Lieutenant," the Captain replied, tearing her eyes away from Rusty's passive aggressive mastication. "Carry on."

As she walked past their desks, heading for one of the break rooms with carefully measured strides, Rusty couldn't resist a parting jibe. "Someone's making lots of friends."

If Raydor heard his comment she chose to ignore it.

* * *

She was brewing tea when he caught up with her, dunking and re-dunking a bag of Earl Grey into a mug of dark water. On the threshold of the break room, half hidden by the partially closed door, Andy hesitated. This was the Wicked Witch of all people; FID's favourite thorn in their side – the same woman who had tripped up countless divisions with rules and regulations and, god help them all, sensitivity training.

But then she let out this sigh – a soft, stillborn thing that seemed to fill the room and empty it in the same breath – and her shoulders dropped a fraction, like they had when she entered her office that morning, and Andy knew. He knew then and there that Sharon Raydor was just as human as the rest of them. The question was, what was he going to do about it?

Backing out of the doorway he straightened up, sucking in his gut for reasons he refused to investigate. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he gave the door a quick rap with his knuckles. "Hey, Cap'n!"

The sight that greeted Andy as the door swung open nearly blew his cover. Raydor was standing bolt upright now, one hip brushing the edge of the countertop in an attempt to appear nonchalant. "You, uh, left before we could give you your coffee," he managed, walking into the room with the take-out cup outstretched. She blinked at him owlishly. "Didn't know what you drink so Amy took a chance on a latte…"

When the woman in question remained stationary, staring at him like he'd sprouted a second head, Andy found himself awkwardly placing the coffee cup on the table between them. "It's still warm…" He watched her stare at the cup for a long moment before his typical impatience reared its head, "Well, aren't you gonna try it?!"

At the Lieutenant's behest Sharon reached out and brought the cup to her lips, taking the smallest possible sip. She was half-convinced this was some sort of prank and the coffee would be laced with chilli or something equally unpleasant, but then the freshly-brewed latte slid over her tongue and her eyes fell shut. Amy had gotten the good stuff – smooth and full bodied with just the right amount of bitterness… Humming lowly, she took a longer sip.

"Anyway, I'd better be getting back," Andy said, rubbing uncomfortably at his neck. Her eyes flickered open then, bright and searching, and surprisingly green. Such a curious shade, he thought – like new shoots pushing through thick frost.

"Of course, Lieutenant," she conceded, dropping her gaze to the table. "You'd better hurry or there might not be any muffins left…"

Andy's body twisted to leave but his feet stayed put, halted by the ghost of a smile that drew his gaze to her mouth. "Yeah?"

"I think I'd forgotten how much a teenager is capable of putting away," Sharon admitted, with a bemused shake of her head. "If Rusty keeps it up-"

"Captain!" Amy burst into the room (and the conversation) with about as much finesse as three month old puppy. "The muffins worked a-" Catching sight of Flynn she skidded to a sudden halt. "Oh. Hi, Lieutenant."

Andy inclined his head. "Sykes."

Sharon took a moment to school her features, not wanting the detective to think that she was laughing at her. "Amy, perhaps the next time you enter a room you might check who's inside before you start talking, hmm?"

The younger woman nodded, visibly reigning in her excitement. "Sorry, Captain."

"It's quite alright," she reassured. "Just don't make a habit of it around suspects."

Andy was looking from Sykes to Raydor warily. "So 'the muffins worked a' what now…?"

Amy glanced towards the Captain, who offered a small shrug. "The, uh, Captain may have suggested that I pick up a bag of muffins for the team… and to claim that they were, um, free." Ignoring Andy's rapidly raising eyebrows, she stepped towards their superior. "If you don't mind me asking, Ma'am, how did you know that it would work so well?"

"It was an olive branch," she said simply, glancing at Andy for the briefest of seconds before settling her gaze on Amy. "You said the muffins were free so no one thought to question your motive for supplying them. In essence you got to reap all of the benefits of sucking up to the team without them realizing that that's what you were doing." She paused, considering the take-out cup warming her palm. "Plus, now that Lieutenant Provenza has 'stood up for you' to me, he'll be more accepting of you as part of the team."

Andy's jaw slackened. "Why you sneaky-"

"Well, thanks, Captain," Amy interjected, heading for the door. "I'm only sorry you wouldn't let me bring back a coffee for you…"

"It's fine, Amy." Slipping her free hand into her jacket pocket, Sharon took another casual sip of Andy's latte. "These things have a way of working themselves out."

Andy watched Sykes dart out of the room, probably on her way to reap the benefits of her brown-nosing muffin selection, and found himself overwhelmed by the sudden desire to be anywhere else. "I'd better go too," he managed, eyes fixed on the laminate flooring. "Paperwork..."

"Of course, Lieutenant." Her tone was too smug, too knowing. "You go."

Feeling like a complete idiot, he edged towards the door. Andy wasn't sure if a grudging respect for the woman's deviousness or a sudden need to have the last word stayed his feet, but something did. "Uh, Captain?"

She was swallowing another mouthful of ill-gotten coffee. "Hmm?"

Andy forced his eyes to meet hers. If he was gonna do this, he was gonna do it right. "I know it's a bit late but, for whatever it's worth, welcome to the team."

As the door closed behind him Sharon felt her surprise give way to a gentle smile, not summoned by force of will or the need to keep up appearances, but a real, genuine smile.

It was the first one that week.

* * *

Andy couldn't get out of there fast enough. He was never trusting his conscious again. Doing Raydor a good turn? Stupid. Getting caught out for said good turn? Worse. He was a good third of the way down the corridor before he noticed the figure hovering between the smaller conference room and a storage cupboard. Amy. Waiting for him, he realized with a hastily silenced groan. Sliding on his most disapproving glare, Andy strode past her at full speed. "Muffins, Sykes? Really?"

She fell into step with him easily. " _You_ gave her your coffee."

"Shut up, Sykes."

"Yes, sir," she answered, hiding a smile.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three: Sulking and Search Warrants.**

AN: Scene addition for 1x03 (Medical Causes). Now with extra added Mothership. Thanks again to Olafurneal for betaing :)

* * *

"We called her _Darth_ Raydor. That was the key expression for me as I didn't want to abandon [her]. It would not have been fair to the character."

\- Mary McDonnell on transitioning from The Closer to Major Crimes.

* * *

"Remind me again why you couldn't just leave me in the condo while _you_ went into work to do _your_ job?" Sharon opened her mouth to respond but Rusty ploughed onwards, continuing the rant that had begun in the car, "Because – and it might surprise you to learn this – if you expect me to pass that stupid entrance exam for your stupid Catholic school then I'm gonna need a decent amount of sleep every night!"

"Rusty-"

"Six in the morning? Really?!" Her young charge groaned, letting his head fall back against the elevator wall with a gentle thud. "It's gotta be against my human rights or something."

Sharon glanced sideways, giving Rusty a quick once over. He was the epitome of sullen teenager today: shoulders thrust forward, spine slouched, a heavy scowl drawing lines across his forehead… but at least there was a bit more color in his cheeks. His hoodie seemed to fit better than it had a week and a half ago too, though Sharon wished he'd let her wash it. Lurking below the elevator's sterile hospital scent was a musty odor, something akin to the old cleaning rags Sharon kept under the sink, and she would bet her last pay-check it was emanating from the one item of clothing Rusty had, so far, refused to relinquish.

"Don't think I've forgiven you for forcing me to move my stuff into the spare room either – because I haven't!"

Still, the smell would be easy enough to fix once Rusty felt comfortable enough to let go of the hoodie for a few hours. The hollow, haunted expression that slid onto his face when his mind wandered? That was going to take time.

"No wonder you live on your own," he grumbled, staring up at the ceiling. "Your family probably hates your guts."

Refusing to give Rusty the rise he was oh-so-obviously looking for, Sharon returned her gaze to the elevator doors, mentally counting down the floors until they could exit the confined space.

Twenty. He didn't like her.

Nineteen. He didn't like being told what to do.

"So, I still don't get why I have to be here…"

Eighteen. Her condo looked like it had been hit by a hurricane.

"with _you_ …"

Seventeen. If he kept it up, he was going to eat her out of house and home.

"when I could be in bed…"

Sixteen. She knew the moment he had curled himself into a ball against the back of her sofa that first night, a tuft of hair peeping out from the light cotton blanket, too tense to sleep and too tired not to, that she would have offered to take him in again in a heartbeat.

"like, actually sleeping!"

Finally done, Rusty thumped his body against the elevator wall, banging his fists on the cool metal for good measure. Sharon tilted her head, considering which issue to tackle first. "Well, Rusty, as I said when we were driving over-"

"While _you_ were driving over, you mean."

Lips pursed, Sharon searched for her reservoir of maternal patience and found the water levels running dangerously low. "Fine. As _I_ said when _I_ was driving over, the LAPD cannot afford to assign you a permanent police escort. Neither do you need one. So, if I pick up a case and need to go to a hospital-"

"But-!"

"OR somewhere else then you have to come with-"

"But I'm not a-!"

"Rusty!" Sharon turned to face him so quickly her long auburn layers fanned out mid-air. She took a moment to stare him down, eyes flashing with controlled displeasure. "I know that you don't like this situation – believe me, you have made that abundantly clear – but, for good or ill, I am your current legal guardian and that means that I am in charge and that _you_ do what _I_ say. Got it?"

The elevator doors dinged open and Rusty was gone, head down, hood up, shooting out ahead of her. "Got it?" she repeated, having to rush to catch up with him.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Rusty shrugged, slowing his pace the moment Sharon would have fallen into step with him. "I'm basically your prisoner but with less rights. I've got it."

"Fewer rights," she corrected, moving past him to take the lead.

* * *

"Name's Leslie Nolan."

Lieutenant Sanchez's throaty rasp was like sandpaper and smoke in a darkened room. Sharon had always found it oddly soothing.

"Silver Lake address. She's an organ donor."

Glaring at Rusty to keep up, she rounded the corner in time to see Sanchez and Andy depositing the last items from a leather purse onto a small table. "Huh. She's also a Doctor," Andy remarked, holding up some sort of ID card.

Striding over Sharon slotted herself into the conversation seamlessly: "So let's assume she'll have lawyer."

Sanchez greeted her with a nod. It was a short and sharp but better than the usual look of distrust that narrowed his eyes whenever she arrived in the murder room. "I'll bet the suspect'll have a 'medical condition' too," he rasped, "with symptoms that fit with her accident."

"She's a resident in neuropsychiatry," Andy added, not bothering with niceties. "Probably gonna blame hitting all those people with her car on narcolepsy, or some other psych BS."

Sharon shook her head, "It won't matter if her blood alcohol is through the roof, but just to be safe let's see the results of any other test she's undergone since she arrived."

"Hey, Rusty! What are you doing here?! Oh nothing, just being _dragged_ out of bed at six in the morning because I must be supervised 24/7."

Andy's gaze darted from the Captain to the kid behind her, and then back to the Captain again. Her lips had narrowed and, for the briefest of seconds before her features forcibly smoothed out, she'd looked… worn.

"How about you?" Rusty barrelled on, venting his situational frustration with a layer of heavy sarcasm, "Uhhh, we're just _exhausted_ on behalf of all the hard work we've been doing for your benefit. Wow, really? I can't thank you all enough; you guys are fan-tastic!"

When the kid threw himself and his rucksack into one of the nearby reception-area chairs, Andy found he couldn't stand by and say nothing. "Oh, you're through already?" he needled, undermining Rusty's fledgling sarcasm with his own cutting brand, "Cos that was hilarious."

Sharon had never been so happy to see a nurse walking towards her in her entire life.

"Detective Sanchez," the woman called out, addressing her previous point of call, "your suspect is conscious now."

He thanked her with a nod, looking to Sharon for instruction. "Ma'am?"

"Yes, of course," she replied, but instead of following the nurse Sharon stepped closer to Andy, carefully lowering her voice. "Uh, Lieutenant, don't say anything but Reno PD has alerted me that they may have already found Rusty's mother."

"No kidding – Reno PD." Andy was close enough to smell the gentle whisper of Raydor's perfume, something light and floral that he didn't have a name for. "So maybe now you'll get rid of the little psycho, huh?"

"Oh. Maybe…" Sharon felt her shoulders rise into a small shrug. If she was honest with herself, 'getting rid' of Rusty had ceased to be a legitimate option the day after he'd moved in, but she would never prevent him from leaving if that was what he wanted. "DCFS and a judge will decide that. But in the meantime don't say anything to Rusty until we _absolutely_ confirm the woman's identity." Reaching into her purse she pulled out her cellphone and offered it to Andy without hesitation. "If Reno police call back ask them to hold for me, please."

Andy stared at the handset. He had never heard her use that word when giving an order before; 'Please'. A quick glance upwards confirmed his suspicions. There was worry buried beneath her air of professionalism, tightening the faint lines around her mouth and eyes. Raydor wasn't asking this as the ranking officer of Major Crimes. She was asking as Rusty's legal guardian. Damn it all, why did she have to go get herself a heart now?

Plucking the phone from her open palm, he slid it into his breast pocket for safe-keeping.

"Detective Sanchez," Raydor continued, suddenly all business. "Will you join me with Miss, um," she paused, checking the suspect's name and title on the ID card, "with Doctor Nolan?"

As Julio followed Captain Raydor down the corridor Andy started gathering the good Doctor's items back into her empty purse. Something was niggling at him, something Raydor had just said. He tapped Nolan's ID card against his palm thoughtfully...

" _The kid you're describing as 'the young man in the car'? Call him Larry Martin. When working homicide it's good to know your victims by name."_

She remembered. Okay, so Nolan was more of a suspect than a victim at this stage of proceedings, but still.

Unexpectedly, the staccato of heels against flooring ceased. Andy looked up in time to see the Captain turn in a slow 180, the hemline of her dress floating around those tight, toned- he swiftly relocated his eyes. Raydor was staring across the corridor at him, one perfectly manicured finger pointed in his direction.

"You did get a _warrant_ to search that purse?"

Andy let a lazy smile slide across his face. "Come on," he teased, pulling the legal document out from its hiding place under Nolan's purse. "You think I'm new at this?"

Raydor's gaze dropped to the piece of paper dangling from his fingers and then bounced right back to his face. There was a glint in her eye he'd never seen before, as sharp as steel and twice as intimidating. She almost looked- Could she possibly be- _Impressed_? But before he could analyse things further the Captain was gone, disappearing down the corridor with long quick strides that sent the fabric of her dress flaring outwards.

Andy reached for Dr. Nolan's purse once more, exhaling heavily. Thank God Provenza had insisted he play that one by the book.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four: What happens in the Elevator…**

AN: Set shortly after 1x04 (The Ecstasy and the Agony). I thought it was about time we checked in properly with our favourite Captain… Massive props, as always, to Olafurneal for being such an encouraging beta. Also, guest reviewers – I wanted you to know that I appreciate your feedback even though I can't reply to you like I do with logged in users. Thank you so much!

* * *

Sharon pressed her back against the cool of the elevator wall. Only the sound of her breathing filled the small space, and a low, drawn out moan when her head tipped towards the ceiling, tugging on the bunched muscles in her neck.

She had slept awkwardly last night – on the sofa, of all places.

One minute she had been leafing through old reports, trying to better acquaint herself with the thought processes of her new team, and the next… reports were scattered around her feet, her glasses askew. Stiff and disorientated, she had woken to discover a hard rectangle trapped beneath her hip (the tv remote), a lack of sensation in one arm, and a soft grey blanket draped across her legs. The neck pain had come later, over breakfast. Rusty hadn't mentioned the change in her sleeping habits and Sharon hadn't mentioned the blanket, but a moment of understanding had passed between the two as he'd handed her the orange juice that morning, condensation dripping down the side of the carton and onto her fingers.

It felt like progress.

Blanket aside, Rusty was continuing to test her patience – pushing the boundaries she had so clearly laid out for him in every direction. It was to be expected really, given the boy's circumstances, but between Rusty's rule-breaking at home and the forced civility of her colleagues at work Sharon was starting to feel like a rag that had been wrung out one too many times and stretched too thin. Hence her newfound appreciation of elevators.

The ride up to Major Crimes in the LAPD's crotchety old elevators took approximately two minutes. That was two whole minutes she could take for herself – two minutes of steady, measured breathing between the end of one headache and the start of the next. Today, miraculously, she even had the space to herself! Rolling her neck from side to side Sharon felt herself relax into the quiet like a hot bath, seeing in her mind's eye stress venting from her body like steam.

Unfortunately, the quiet didn't last. About thirty seconds into her ride the elevator juddered, beginning to slow. Sharon was instantly alert, pushing herself off the wall and straightening out her jacket. So much for a moment to herself. As the doors dinged open, an alarming thought crossed her mind. Oh God, please don't let it be-

"Going up?" Andy Flynn strolled into the elevator with a grey jacket swung over one shoulder, eyes twinkling as if somehow aware of her thoughts.

Nodding politely, Sharon watched as he positioned himself on the opposite side of the elevator to her, noting that his cheeks were rosier than usual. His company wasn't ideal, butat least it wasn't _-_

"Flynn! To hell with this!"

Huffing and puffing, a sweaty-browed Louis Prozenva stomped into the enclosed space with all the grace of a rhinoceros, making the elevator suddenly feel a hell of a lot smaller. Sharon witnessed the exact moment Provenza's eyes fell on her. Surprise was not a great look on the man. Neither was attempting to backtrack out of an elevator when the doors had already shut. Disgruntled he looked towards his partner, jerking his head in her direction. "Flynn."

Andy studiously ignored him.

" _Flynn_!" Provenza jerked his head again, clearly wanting to avoid standing next to her if at all possible. It was almost amusing, really.

Andy finally glanced his way, playing dumb. "What?"

Glaring daggers, Louie was forced to slot himself into the open space between his soon to be _ex_ -partner and Captain Raydor. He drew himself up to his full height, arms folded, shoulders tense, body language screaming 'get me out of here'.

Sharon's hands dug deep into the pockets of her jacket.

"Captain."

Her gaze darted around Provenza to Andy, who was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Lieutenant."

"So… uh, how are things?"

Her eyebrows quirked upwards. If there was one thing that her late-night case file reading had reminded her of, it was that Andy Flynn was not a 'how are things'kinda guy. "Things are fine," she answered, thinking it would be the end of the conversation.

"And the kid?"

"At school."

Provenza rolled his eyes.

"I'm worried about him," she admitted after a beat, pulling her hands out of her pockets and knitting her fingers together in front of her. The urge to fidget was strong but it felt good to finally say it out loud. She had forgotten how hard being a single-parent was – no one to share your fears with or turn to when life threw you a curveball…

"How come?"

Sharon let her gaze settle more heavily onto Andy. His expression was neutral but when his eyes found hers they were warm, sympathetic. She searched for the right words. "Rusty was quiet this morning when I dropped him off. There was an… unfortunate incident with some bullies at St. Joseph's yesterday." She shook her head in disbelief, "He sent _three_ classmates to the infirmary!"

"They start it?"

"Yes, but that's not the point. Rusty was fully prepared to beat those boys to a pulp – he _did_ beat those boys to a pulp – and that kind of behaviour is unacceptable." She focused on her hands, twisting this way and that. "If he's always on the defensive then he'll never re-learn how to open up to people. He'll never make friends at school, or-"

"Captain."

Sharon's hands stilled. She'd nearly forgotten Provenza was in the lift too.

The man cleared his throat gruffly. "It, ah, it might be worth bearing in mind that kids are a lot more resilient than adults. Those three in the infirmary? They'll bounce right back. And so will Rusty, given enough TLC and time…" He coughed. "Be patient."

Sharon swallowed thickly, the weight of his words lodging in her throat. Apparently, there were some things reading reports just couldn't prepare you for, and Provenza being nice was one of them. "Thank you," she managed, and meant it.

"Don't mention it," he rumbled, tugging on his lapels to straighten out his jacket. "Seriously, don't. We both have a certain reputation to maintain."

When the elevator doors pinged open twenty seconds later Provenza was the first one out, marching towards the murder room without a backward glance. Sharon held back, expecting Andy to shoot off after his partner, but he surprised her by lingering in the doorway, holding the elevator open with his arm.

"Y'know, not many people would have taken in a stray," he twisted back to look at her seriously, "myself included. So the way I see it, the kid's lucky to have you, Captain." With a short nod, Andy was gone – ambling down the corridor with his jacket over one shoulder, the grey material swaying against him with every step.

Alone in the elevator once more Sharon blew out a unsteady breath. Andy and Provenza's kind words had been completely unexpected – like reaching the bottom of a flight of stairs when you were expecting another step. Shaking it off, she smoothed a steadying hand over her skirt and filed the moment away for examination, later. When she left the elevator her facial expression was neutral, her pace brisk. But if Captain Raydor's walls weren't quite as high as they had been on her first day with Major Crimes, well, who would notice? No one.

Probably no one.

Probably.

* * *

End notes: Alright, I know the conversation in the elevator would probably have taken longer than a minute and a half and I'm not about to suggest that there was some sort of timey-wimey wibbly-wobberly _thing_ going in this chapter… but there totally was.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five: Bullets and Body Contact.**

AN: We're still in S1 folks, a bit before 1x06 (Out of Bounds). Time for a little action!Raydor, me thinks. ;) This one's for tumblr's very own marymcmagic-hair as her post (see 'End Notes') kinda inspired this chapter. Hope you don't mind! I also wanna give captainpoppin's a massive shout out for creating an image to accompany Chapter Four (check it out on tumblr, folks!), and to Olafurneal for being my wonderful beta.

* * *

The smell hit him first: sharp, sulphuric, and sickeningly sweet. Andy had to take small sipping breaths as it swept down his throat, threatening to set off his gag reflex. Behind him Captain Raydor wasn't doing much better – quietly choking on every inhalation. If the splash marks along the decaying wooden fencing were anything to go by, the back yard had been used as a urinal, amongst other things, for some time.

"We can't hold position here," Raydor managed, moisture beading the corners of her eyes. Andy could only nod in agreement. "Let's fall back."

Keeping the rear of the house in view they skirted around the maggot-infested remains of a cat, breathing as lightly as possible. The pervasive stench of ammonia and excrement was worse than anything the morgue had thrown at Andy in months. He made a mental note to appreciate the cleaning products and formaldehyde that always irritated his nose the next time he visited Morales.

The Captain broke radio silence at the entrance to the street, sucking down two lungful's of clean air, "Lieutenant Flynn and I are in position but further from the house than anticipated."

"Acknowledged." Provenza's voice crackled over the radio, gruff as ever. "Ye gods this place is a dump."

Andy could tell she agreed with him from the way her mouth twitched. "Sykes? Sanchez?" she queried, scanning the yard.

"Ready, Ma'am."

"In position."

Andy followed as Raydor ducked behind a well-rusted wheelbarrow, abandoned on its side. Several near-identical holes had punched through the metal – bullet holes, he realized with an adrenaline-filled jolt. She looked towards the house as she gave the order, mouth drawn into a thin tight line. "Provenza, Tao, you have a go. Proceed with _extreme_ caution. I shouldn't have to remind either of you how dangerous members of the Black Dragon are."

"Noted, Captain. Heading in."

Clipping the radio back onto her bullet-proof vest, she let out a soft breath. Andy shuffled closer, noting the way the Captain's usually guarded expression faltered momentarily, betraying the whisper of worry underneath. Suddenly her insistence on coming along to pick up the witness made sense. "It gets easier," he offered, unsure why he felt the need to reassure the woman but needing to anyway.

It took a moment for Sharon's brain to pull her back from the imagined situation on the other side of the house. "I- Sorry, Lieutenant?"

"Sending team members into potentially dangerous situations," Andy clarified. The breeze was picking up, playing prettily with the ends of her hair. "It gets easier."

Sharon tensed then cursed herself for doing so. He was too close not to have noticed.

Figuring he'd overstepped the mark, Andy returned his attention to the back door of the dilapidated house, pressing his heels firmly into the dirt. If Yuan decided he'd rather run than talk they needed to be ready.

"FID was different." She kept her gaze fixed over the top of the wheelbarrow, as if only speaking aloud to herself. "Not bad, just… less personal, distanced." Safer.

Andy nodded thoughtfully. "So Major Crimes is…?"

"Not good, but… different." Her eyes flickered towards him, nearly alighting on his face, but then something dragged her attention away – movement at the back of the house. Crouching lower behind the wheelbarrow, they watched as a man in his thirties clambered out of what looked like a bathroom window, dropping onto the slanted roof below.

"Dirtbags always run," Andy tutted as Raydor pressed the talk button on her radio twice so the team would know Yuan had given Provenza and Tao the slip. When Yuan shimmied down the drainpipe and hit the ground running, Andy made to rise but a firm hand on his arm held him back.

"Wait," Sharon whispered, letting Yuan get closer…

Andy could see the dragon tattoo looping around the man's arm in detail before she finally gave the nod, bursting out from the right side of the wheelbarrow as he exploded from the left. Together they would have cut Yuan off, him in front and her behind, had the gang member not barrelled into Andy in a desperate break for it.

He swore as he hit the ground, struggling to pull his radio out from underneath him while the Captain gave chase, her reddish hair streaming out behind her like the tail of a fiery comet. "Sykes, Sanchez," he gasped, lungs re-inflating painfully, "Yuan heading your way, Raydor in pursuit." At least _one_ of them was herding the bastard in the right direction. Groaning, Andy pushed himself to his feet and started off behind Yuan and the Captain, still partially winded. Goddamn it, he was getting too old for this crap.

By the time he had nearly caught up with them, Yuan and the Captain were approaching the main street's sidewalk. Andy focused on closing the distance between them, chest burning from the lack of oxygen, forcing his feet onwards… until he noticed that both Yuan and Raydor had skidded to a standstill, looking to the right.

A handful of meters away stood a man in a dirty crew top. He was shouting at Yuan with such force that spittle sprayed from his mouth, waving a gun erratically between Raydor, Sykes, and Julio. Both detectives were further along the sidewalk on the left, weapons drawn but lacking a clear shot. Yuan and Raydor were in the way. Andy saw it all in the space of a few accelerated heartbeats and then adrenaline took over, speeding his reactions and slowing the scene.

Julio and Sykes were shouting at the man to drop his weapon.

Yuan and Raydor were in the way.

The man with the gun stepped forward, a fresh wave of spittle spraying from his mouth as he clicked his safety off.

Raydor was in the way.

His safety was off.

Raydor.

Squeezing the last bit of energy out of his burning limbs, Andy surged forwards, hurtling directly into her. They went down hard, his velocity pushing them over the parkway and into the road. Shots were fired. Raydor's head collided with the tarmac.

Dazed, it took a moment for Sharon to come back to herself, to blink the world into focus. She was falling into the sky, pinned down by a heavy load. Shen blinked, struggling to inflate her lungs. She was on her back, pinned to down by Andy Flynn. She blinked again and the cars either side of them spun to a slow stop. She blinked.

The man resting on top of her gave a low groan.

"Andy?"

He coughed a little, raising his head from the crook of her neck to look at her sheepishly. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she whispered, licking at dry lips. "Hit my head."

"You're welcome." Andy pushed himself up onto his forearms with a grunt, giving her the once over. There were a few cuts and grazes to the right side of her face, where she had skidded along the ground, but otherwise she seemed to be in one piece. Remembering the loud crack her head had made when they hit the ground, Andy cautiously slid a hand into her thick hair, lifting her head to search for lumps and bumps.

"Really," she protested, hands curling around his forearms. "I'm fine."

In the fading rush of adrenalin brown eyes met green, widening slightly when he realized their bodies were pressed so tightly together that he could feel the fluttering of her heart through the bulletproof vests. Or maybe it was his heart. "I-"

"You alright down there?" Tao was looming over them suddenly, flushed from his sprint from the house.

Andy scrambled upright, pulling the Captain with him. She moved past him onto the sidewalk stiffly. Julio was pinning a struggling Yuan to a nearby wall. Provenza already had the mystery shooter in cuffs, Amy mirandizing him as they led him towards one of their cars. Amy pointed out the tattoo on his arm as they passed. "It's two for the price of one!"

And double the headache. Sharon pinched the bridge of her nose. "Did anyone shoot at these two… gentlemen?"

"No, Ma'am," Julio answered, slamming Yuan back against the concrete wall when he tried to push the detective away. "Both shots came from the other gang member – Jon Wen." He leaned forward, goading Yuan. "Guess he _really_ wanted to talk to you, huh."

Well, at least she wouldn't have to put out a call to FID today.

"Cuff him," Sharon ordered, sidestepping Andy and Tao as they moved forward to give Julio a hand.

Yuan's struggling increased tenfold. "You can't arrest me! I haven't committed a crime!"

Andy yanked Yuan's arms back a little harder than Sharon thought was necessary. "That remains to be seen, ya idiot. Anyway we're not arresting you; we're just making sure you're not gonna run away again while we take you downtown for a little chat."

"Chat?! About what?"

Julio and Tao pulled Yuan away from the wall, steering him towards Julio's car. Andy rolled his eyes, following at the rear. "Something you saw three weeks ago. A murder, asshole!"

"That's enough," Sharon warned, rubbing circles against her aching temple.

Once Yuan was securely inside the car, Andy returned to her side. "Captain, I think you should give me your keys."

"Excuse me?"

"Your car keys. You took a pretty hard bump to the head – not exactly an idea condition to be driving in."

Sharon squinted up at him. _Now_ he wanted to follow the rules? "Fine," she conceded, pulling her hand away from her forehead to toss him the keys from her vest's pocket. "But you stick to the speed limit, you indicate, and you drive where I tell you to. Got it?"

His eyes were twinkling. "Yes, Cap'n Raydor, Ma'am. After we get you checked out at the nearest hospital, as per standard procedure. Or I could radio for a field-medic…?"

Sharon sighed, leading the way to her car. Andy was right about following procedure, of course, and from the dull throb that had taken up residence at the base of her skull she was pretty sure she had some sort of concussion. But that didn't mean she had to like it. The regs did not exist for point-scoring.

When they reached her vehicle, he pulled the passenger's door open for her with a smirk. "Captain."

Sharon resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him, lowering herself gingerly into the car. Andy's smirk grew as he slid into the driver's seat, slotting her key into the ignition with relish.

There would be no working with him after this.

* * *

End Notes: marymcmagic-hair: I need there to be a scene where Sharon gets shot at, and Andy tackles her to the ground and covers her with his body to protect her, and once the panic is over, she's still on her back and he's still on top of her, and they look into each other's eyes and they're breathing heavily and just so. much. sexual. tension.

I'm not sure I fulfilled the UST but maybe when Sharon and Andy know each other a little better… ;)


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six: An Excuse to Call her Anyway.**

AN: Hello, all! Long-time, no chapter update! Sorry about that. RL kinda got in the way but I'm back now and excited to share with you the next chapter of Stepping Stones!

Chapter 6 is set just after 1x06 (Out of Bounds). I always wished that more had been made of Amy's injuries… I mean the guy punched her so hard he dislocated her jaw! I know Amy wasn't in the following episode as she was recovering, but we didn't get much time to process the impact of her injuries, both on her and on the team. So this is my attempt at exploring the fallout.

Special thanks once again to Olafurneal, for her marvellous betaing skills, and to everyone who's still reading this fic. If you've got a spare minute, please let me know what you think. I can't tell you why, but I struggled a bit re-writing this chapter.

* * *

Seven-eleven, seven-thirteen, seven-fifteen… Andy glared at the nearest door number, doubling his pace. Visiting hours were nearly over and he was at the wrong end of the goddamn corridor. It was just so typical of- " _Whoa_ - _!_ " A gasp wrenched from his throat, his shoes slipping on the polished hospital flooring – throwing him into the path of an oncoming orderly. Raising his arms for balance, he managed to narrowly avoid the woman before the corridor wall ended his impromptu skating lesson with a sharp bump.

"Hey Genius, wanna watch where you're going?!"

Heart pounding from the sudden surge of adrenaline Andy checked himself over, then turned his attention to the take-out bag dangling from his fingertips. He'd jerked the contents around quite a bit when he'd slipped, but thankfully everything inside seemed to be-

"Hey, Genius!"

Andy cast a less than apologetic glance upwards. The orderly stood rooted to spot of their near collision, hands on hips, chest pushed out, body-language spoiling for a fight. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he offered her a smile that was somewhat sour around the edges. He _really_ didn't have time for this crap. "Look sweetheart, if the floors weren't so ridiculously over-buffed then I wouldn't have slipped in the first place. Isn't that _your_ job?" He turned away without waiting for an answer, resuming his path down the corridor with hurried steps.

Seven-twenty-seven, seven-twenty-nine, seven-thirty-one… Andy was so focused on his feet, trying to find a safe medium between speed and stability, that the familiar mop of blond hair didn't register until he was only a door or two away. "Rusty?"

The kid glanced up from his cell phone. "Oh. Hey, Lieutenant."

Andy quickly closed the distance between them, coming to a stop outside room seven-thirty-seven. "I didn't expect to see you here," he said, though not unkindly.

"Sharon wanted to check on Amy after work, so…" Rusty shrugged, gaze shifting back to the rectangle of light emitted from his phone. "We- uh, _Sharon_ was worried about her – Amy, I mean."

"She'll bounce back." When Rusty didn't look convinced, Andy added, "Sykes is stronger than she looks. She's a veteran, remember?"

The kid shrugged again, eyebrows furrowed as he started tapping something out on his phone. Andy noted he was being careful to avoid even looking towards Amy's room, keeping his head bent low and his back to room seven-thirty-seven's window. Steeling himself, Andy let his eyes lift from Rusty's hunched shoulders, peering with trepidation through the window's open blinds.

Amy was sitting upright in bed, supported by a fortress of pillows that swamped her narrow frame. A white bandage looped around her chin from the top of her head and the back of her neck, holding her dislocated jaw in place. The bandage brought the purple bruising on her cheeks and her swollen eye sockets into sharp relief. She looked like someone had beaten the shit out of her. Someone _had_ beaten the shit out of her. _Concussion, cuts, bruises, dislocated jaw_ … it had been hard enough to stomach when Provenza read out the medical update, but it was even harder now. For the first time in their acquaintance, Amy Sykes looked small.

Andy's eyes shifted to Captain Raydor, who was stood by the side of the bed. Her long auburn hair fell over her shoulder as she fluffed the edges of Amy's pillows, speaking quietly to her subordinate. Making a conscious effort to relax his fists, Andy strolled up to the open door and cleared his throat.

"Room for one more?"

Raydor twisted to look at him and then back to Amy, who nodded carefully. "Andy, come on in."

He came to a stop on the opposite side of the bed to the Captain, setting the takeout bag on a little table that was already occupied by a vase of sunflowers and a pink 'it's a girl' balloon. Provenza had no taste. "Hey, Sykes," he greeted, meeting her foggy gaze squarely. "Thought I'd pop in and see how you're doing."

Amy pointed to the bag so he pulled out the take-out cup for her to see. "Banana Maca smoothie. The maca's full of amino acids, calcium, and iron, and banana and almond milk are both pretty easy on the stomach. Just think of it as a healing tonic to help get you back on your feet. Should keep 'til the morning. And, if you're feeling up to it after that-" he rummaged in the bag with his free hand, pulling out a see-through snack bag, "mini-Danish pastries. I figured they're soft and small enough to eat with limited jaw movement…"

Amy circled something on a lined notepad, then held it out for him to read. _Thank you_.

"Anytime." Andy let his gaze surreptitiously trail over to the opposite side of the bed, where Raydor was brushing her fingers along the top of Amy's pillows. She was putting on a cheerful face, smiling when Amy glanced over, but Andy could tell she was shaken.

Amy pointed to her notebook again, blinking swollen eyelids sluggishly. _They're keeping me in overnight, but I should be able to go home tomorrow._

"That's great, Sykes," he smiled. "You got someone to pick you up?"

Another careful nod, another pre-written answer. _Brother. No need to worry about me._

Amy's eyes slid shut as Andy was reading, her body sinking a little heavier into the pillows. Raydor allowed herself to adjust the blankets covering her officer, tucking them around her securely. "I think the pain medication has finally kicked in," she murmured, unable to fully meet Andy's gaze.

He nodded, easing the notebook and pen from Amy's grasp. Setting them within easy reaching distance for when she woke, he followed Raydor out of the room, closing the door behind them with a quiet click.

Rusty nodded at the pair as they emerged, now lounging across two seats in a row of four a little way down the corridor. His rucksack occupied the other two seats. Sharon gave a small tut.

"Sykes seems okay," Andy said. "Y'know, considering the circumstances."

Sharon swallowed thickly, turning towards the window that looked into Amy's room. Every time she blinked the image of an increasingly bloody fist striking downwards flashed across her eyelids. The sickening crunch of each impact had been perfectly relayed by the mic attached to Amy's collar.

Andy moved to stand beside her, careful to stare directly ahead. He forgot sometimes that Raydor was still new to this – unused to sending officers into dangerous situations, unused to when things went wrong... "The kid decide what to do about his Dad yet?"

She shook her head, grateful for the change in tack. "He said he'd think about it, which is progress."

"Good," Andy replied. "'I didn't go to all the trouble of ringing DCFS for him to throw the baby out with the bathwater."

In the window Raydor's reflection half turned towards him, a single eyebrow quirking upwards. "As I recall, you said you had someone who'd get back to you real quick. Someone who you'd been looking for an excuse to call…?"

It was on the tip of Andy's tongue to confess, to admit that he'd spent an extra half hour on the phone to DCFS that morning, going through the regular channels instead of his 'special contact' and that he still wasn't sure why. "Oh, yeah, she was very helpful," he heard himself reply, managing a cheeky grin.

Raydor hummed quietly, eyes fixed once more on Amy's sleeping form.

"You okay?"

"Fine!" It was a moment or two before Sharon realized she'd snapped out that word – an old knee-jerk reaction from her FID days when getting emotionally involved would call your ability to do your job into question. "Sorry." Fiddling with the edge of the window she added, "I thought you said it gets easier…"

He wanted to lie, he really did, but somehow the truth tumbled out of Andy's mouth anyway. "This bit never does."

Sharon let the weight of those words sink heavily on her shoulders before moving away, towards Rusty.

Andy watched her go, running a hand through his short hair, thoughts tangled and twisted. He hated seeing Sykes injured, but he hated the haunted expression on Raydor's face more. He still was used to cold and calculated 'Rulebook' Raydor. Anything else was… unsettling.

"Lieutenant," Rusty called out, swinging his rucksack onto his back as he stood. "Thanks for the info about- from DCFS. Sharon said you put the file together. So, um, thanks."

"It was nothing, kid."

The Captain smiled across the corridor at him sadly. "See you tomorrow, Lieutenant."

Andy inclined his head and the pair set off together down the corridor. He could hear the sound of Raydor's heels striking the flooring long after they had rounded the corner, drifting out of his sight.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven: The one with Laura Roslin.**

AN: Couldn't help myself folks so this is just a silly little something – emphasis on the silly. Also, my sister said I should 'tribute' her in the notes for this chapter as she came up with the _whole_ idea. I hope this meets your expectations, kiddo! :p

Thanks again to my awesome beta, Olafurneal, for helping me to reign in this chapter when it threatened to jump headfirst into the realm of crack, and to Glisteningsun10 who encouraged me to keep editing until the chapter felt right. It's taken some time, but I think it's finally there.

* * *

"…I'm telling you, it's uncanny!"

Rolling up his crossword with the same level of patience as a five-year-old, Provenza showed great restraint – flinging the paper across the surface of his desk instead of at Mike Tao's shiny bald head. "Fine!" he barked, forcing his chair out from underneath himself. "Now you've got my full attention. Now you can _really_ go into detail!"

A little way across the room, Tao's fingers paused on his keyboard. "Ah. I might have got a bit carried awa-"

"A bit?!" Provenza snapped, marching towards him with such purpose that Tao found himself instinctively shrinking back into his seat. "Tao, you've been expounding on Battlespa Galacti-whatsit for ten whole minutes now! That's ten minutes I could have spent enjoying today's crossword! But no. Clearly, this is much more impor-" the image on the computer screen drew him up short. "What the-?" Squinting, he took a few steps forward to bring it into better focus, anger temporarily put aside for curiosity.

A pair of uncommonly attractive eyes started out of Tao's computer screen. The shade was startling and calming at the same time – the colour of light dancing through a leaf canopy. Framed by auburn hair and well-defined cheek-bones, even Provenza had to admit… "Good God," he breathed out, surprise washing the frown lines from his forehead. "It's-"

"Uncanny?" Tao grinned. "Told ya."

"I mean- the hair, the eyes, the cheekbones…" Provenza was babbling, he knew he was babbling and yet he couldn't seem to stop. "She looks just like-" he stopped himself, a finger lifting of its own accord to trace the jawline of the woman displayed on-screen. "Who is she?"

"Lieutenant Provenza, meet President Laura Roslin," Tao introduced, enlarging the photo to compensate for a certain person's growing long-sightedness. "Originally the Secretary of Education and forty-third in line of succession, Roslin found herse-"

"Tao." Provenza pinched the bridge of his nose. "I meant the actress, not the character. Who is the _actress_?!"

"Oh." Tao brought up another photo – this time the woman was looking away from the camera lens, curled up in some sort of balcony seat. "Mary McDonnell. Five foot six, early to mid-sixties, born in Wikes-Barre-"

"McDonnell," Provenza repeated, testing the name out on his tongue. "Never heard of her."

Tao glanced sideways. "I'm not surprised; she's highly underrated." He seemed to want to say more but Provenza's eyes narrowed so he settled instead for scrolling down the image, head tilted pensively. "Interestingly, even the legs-"

"Uhh-" There was a half-choked cough from somewhere behind them. "Do I wanna know?"

"Buzz!" Provenza whirled around, trying to block the image from view as Tao scrolled back up the length of those long, shapely- "It's not what it looks like!"

Buzz raised an eyebrow and Provenza felt his face instantly warm.

"Okay, okay," he conceded gruffly, "it's nearly what it looks like. But trust me, you don't want to know." He aimed a glowering scowl at the back of Tao's head, "I certainly didn't."

"Sorry I asked," Buzz replied, backing away slowly.

"Asked what?"

Provenza glared to his left. Amy was moving across the murder room with long, bouncing strides, her handbag swaying merrily from her fingertips. _Someone_ was still pepped up at being back on active duty. His expression almost threatened to soften until he realized Amy's was looking to him for an answer. "There's nothing to know!"

Tao spun his chair around, finally satisfied that with the positioning of the promo pic. "Buzz, Sykes," he greeted, "how much do you know about Battlestar Galactica?"

Buzz's hand lifted hesitantly into the air. "Original or RDM's re-imagining?"

"Ye gods, there's two of them."

Ignoring Provenza, Buzz strode across the room, depositing his leather messenger bag at the foot of Tao's desk. "Seem familiar?" Tao asked, opening a recent press photo of Captain Raydor and placing it beside the promo picture of Laura Roslin.

Buzz needed a moment to process what he was seeing, eyes darting rapidly between the two images. "Oh my gods!" he breathed excitedly. "Captain Raydor's a _Cylon_?!"

"Woah!" Provenza turned to see Sykes leaning into him, face lit up with excitement as she stared at the screen. It was the first full smile he had seen from her since the incident, and for a few precious seconds he forgot to be pissed. And then she blew it. "I _knew_ the Captain reminded me of someone!"

"For the love of-" Sanity slipping, Provenza twisted towards the only undeclared person in the room. "Julio, please tell me you don't watch this Galacti-crap!"

Sat unobtrusively at his desk, it was easy to overlook Julio in the mornings. He often entered the murder room unannounced, joining in on conversation only after several double-shot Americanos. "Sorry sir," he rasped eventually, swallowing a long draught of coffee, "but Admiral Adama's a frakking legend."

Provenza let out a frustrated sound, somewhere between a groan and a huff.

Tao grinned. "So say we all!"

The sound of steady footsteps announced the arrival of another member of the division. Provenza turned to see his salvation, silver-haired, and strolling through the office with his jacket tucked under one arm. The idiot must have taken the stairs again. "Flynn! Get your ass over here!"

"What, no hello?" Andy joked, settling his jacket over the back of his chair.

"Battlestar Galactica!" he barked, making Amy jump. "Do you watch it?"

Andy's brows drew together, "Uh, what exactly-"

"Flynn! Do. You. Watch. It?!"

Andy glanced from Provenza to the threesome clustered around Tao's computer to Provenza again. His partner seemed to be having some sort of breakdown – face flushed, eyes manic, the vein in his temple pulsating worryingly… so he went with the answer he thought most likely to please him. "Sure, I watch BSG. It's got action, suspense, the military. Plus, you know, the President's pretty frakking hot. Have you seen her legs?!" Andy shook his head, expression glazed. "There's just something about her, y'know? The camera loves her."

"Sounds like the camera's not the only one," Buzz murmured, drawing poorly concealed snorts from Julio and Tao. Just as Provenza was considering the benefits of banging his partner's head against the nearest wall, a curious voice cut through the chatter.

"What's all this?"

The team turned as one towards the corridor. Captain Raydor stood just inside the murder room, propped against the corridor wall. How long she had been listening to the conversation was not apparent, but her handbag was swung over one shoulder and a hint of a smile played with the corner of her lips.

There was an awkward pause.

"Uh, morning, Captain!" Tao replied, recovering first. He was quick to close the two photos on his computer. "Ever heard of Battlestar Galactica?"

She shook her head. "No, well, yes – my son, Ricky, adores it. He keeps telling me I need to watch… something about one of the characters reminding him of me? I can't say I've bothered to investigate though. Science fiction isn't really my thing."

"That's a shame," Amy said kindly. "It's a good show."

The Captain hummed. "Anyway, apologies for my tardiness – I was caught in traffic after dropping Rusty off." Amy nodded. Buzz shifted his weight from foot to foot. Provenza coughed. Raydor seemed to give herself a little shake. "I'll just…" she moved as if to start walking towards her office then stopped, turning back to make eye contact with each of them in turn. "Don't forget that the deadline for your quarterly reports is 2 pm today. Chief Taylor would appreciate a timely submission…"

It was a gentle rebuff. Major Crimes was the only division in the entire LAPD that had failed to log their reports on time last quarter, and boy had Taylor been pissed. But that had been before Raydor. "We won't forget," Andy replied, above the team's polite chorus of 'Aye, Captain'.

"Good," she nodded. "You know where to find me should you run into any difficulties."

As the Captain headed for her office, Provenza slid up to Flynn, the frown-lines on his face deepening. "Why do you always have to suck up to her?"

Andy rolled his eyes. "I don't. I treat her like she's the Captain because she is the Captain. Anyway, what did I miss earlier?"

"Hmm?"

"Why the question about Battlestar?" Andy clarified, scowling. "You taking a survey or something?"

"Yeah," Provenza replied absently, not meeting his gaze, "a survey."

When he mumbled something about needing to finish his report and strode off towards his desk, he left behind one very confused Andy Flynn.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight: Dunn Dilemma.**

AN: Scene addition for 1x07 (The Shame Game), which occurs about 12 minutes into the ep. Anyone else love how police!parenty Sharon and Andy were when introduced to Daniel Dunn? Those two idiots.

* * *

"Captain Raydor!"

Sharon's heart plummeted to the floor like a spent bullet. She could almost hear the hard metallic clink of it making contact with the floor-tile as the last syllable of her name rang out in the bustling corridor. Cynthia. She had been waiting for the support worker to re-appear ever since DCFS had been informed about Rusty's familial match, but surely this was too soon, or, from Rusty's perspective, too little too late. Turning her back on the elevators regretfully, Sharon felt the gentle wash of air-currents against her side as Lieutenant Flynn spun in time beside her. The synchronicity of their movements would have amused her, had she not been distracted by the shard of worry burying itself into her chest. Questioning their suspect would have to wait.

"Just the person I wanted to see," Cynthia greeted, striding towards them with an easy smile. "Good news. Sharon Raydor, this is Daniel Dunn – Rusty's father."

The man hovering behind Cynthia's shoulder stepped forward, hand outstretched, and Sharon's breath caught suddenly in her throat. "Captain, it's nice to meet you."

She forced her fingers to curl around his, "A-and you, Mr. Dunn."

The man with Rusty's eyes smiled. "Call me Daniel."

"Oh…"

Andy watched the Captain shift backwards half a step, faltering in a way he wouldn't have thought possible for her. As a polite smile smoothed across her features, he realized that Cynthia must have blindsided her – there was no way Rusty would have changed his mind about meeting his biological father so quickly. Suddenly irritated, he thrust out a hand. "Daniel, I'm Lieutenant Flynn; I work with Captain Raydor in Major Crimes." Their palms met with an audible crack and Andy had to resist the irrational desire to squeeze the other man's fingers.

After a brief round of awkward smiles and shifting feet Sharon seemed to come back to herself. Pressing her lips together, she addressed Dunn. "Daniel, I imagine that you've got many questions and I am more than happy to answer them. However, we're in the middle of a highly sensitive case so if you could just bear with us for a little while and, uh, wait in the family room I'll be with you as soon as I can."

"Sure," Dunn said, glancing uneasily towards Cynthia, "but I'm not actually here to see you; I'm here to see Russell."

Sharon pinned the support worker with a look, eyes unflinching and impossibly green. "The family room sounds great," Cynthia agreed quickly.

"But-"

"Right this way," Andy motioned, allowing no time for further discussion. As he herded Dunn and Cynthia in the right direction he had to work hard to keep his expression neutral. There was something immensely satisfying about seeing someone else on the receiving end of Darth Raydor.

The Captain was quiet on the walk over, hands tucked away in the mysterious depths of her pockets. Andy knew that she was processing, working out what to do next. She took her position as Rusty's legal guardian very seriously. It came as no surprise to him then, that once Dunn was tucked away in the family room, Raydor rounded on Cynthia, arms folding tight across her chest. "Rusty was very clear; he did _not_ want to meet his biological father."

"The kid's just settling down," Andy added, folding his arms too, and Sharon felt a rush of gratitude for the Lieutenant's support.

"Foster care is, by definition, temporary," Cynthia reminded. "As it is, officially, Rusty has a placement issue to which this man could be the answer."

"At the moment, he's more of a question." Sharon glanced at Mr. Dunn through the family room window, eyes narrowed. If she had to take a guess she'd put him in his late thirties, somewhere between five foot eight and five foot ten. From his well-pressed clothes and carefully styled hair it was clear that he could take care of himself but that was hardly proof that he would also be able care for a vulnerable teenager.

"Yeah," Andy agreed. "Like why'd he just show up now, after 16 years?"

"Because," Cynthia's brows twitched, "you people gave us DNA results last week and told us to go look for him. And, once we found Mr. Dunn, we were legally obligated to notify him of Rusty's existence. And in all 50 states we would've had to try to reunite him with a parent or the nearest-" Sharon's rapid head-shaking cut her off, the only warning that-

"Hey, what's up?"

Cynthia saw the split-second of fear that flashed across the Captain's face before she caught herself. Oblivious, Rusty strolled towards the family room – a textbook in one hand and a nibbled pencil in the other, looking for all intents and purposes like your average, bored sixteen-year-old.

"Nothing's up," Cynthia stalled, as Sharon casually side-stepped to block Rusty's view through the family room window. "Um, why aren't you in school?"

A shrug rolled down his narrow shoulders. "Faculty retreat- they let us go right after mass. Gotta love those Catholics, right?" He chuckled but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Am I in trouble again?"

"Oh, no – no, no," Sharon reassured, taking half a step forward. "What d'you need?"

Rusty looked towards the family room door. "Uh, a soda?"

Andy blocked his path. "We have a… sensitive family thing going on right now in the break room-"

"I'll bring you a soda in a minute," Sharon finished, smile tight, heartbeat loud in her ears. She could tell Rusty wasn't entirely convinced but he started to back up anyway, shooting her and the window behind her a curious glance.

"Great. O-kay. Uh, bye, Cynthia."

The social worker gave him a small wave. "Bye Rusty."

Sharon held her breath until Rusty turned the corner, disappearing safely out of sight. Only after a count of five did she allow her shoulders to sag, tugged downwards by the heavy weight of relief. Beside her Andy caught her gaze, blew out a shakily breath.

"Let me give you the headline here," Cynthia said, patiently drawing their attention once more. "Unless he proves unfit Mr. Dunn has parental rights."

Andy shook his head. " _If_ he turns out to be Rusty's father."

"Lieutenant, Mr. Dunn's DNA has already shown a connection-"

"No, no, no," Sharon interjected. "Mr. Dunn's brother's DNA has proven to be a near-match for Rusty. _Near_ -match. I mean, what if there's another brother out there?" She moved to stand between Andy and the door to the Family Room, and he could see that she was doing some quick thinking. "Cynthia, you are a person we shouldn't have to tell this to; families keep secrets."

That was the tipping point. Andy watched Cynthia carefully, waiting for the exact moment the Captain's statement sunk in. When the social worker tilted her head, eyes fluttering shut, he knew she had her.

Sharon knew it too. "Lieutenant, would you meet and greet our pimp? And please ask Lieutenant Tao to bring me a kit."

Andy inclined his head before setting off down the corridor, towards the elevators once more. Raydor was quite capable of handling the situation with Dunn on her own – he almost felt sorry for the guy – but something niggled at the back of his mind. Making a mental note to check in with her later, for the kid's sake, Andy lengthened his strides. It was the case that needed his attention right now.

* * *

Several hundred lame excuses from the dirtbag-pimp later, Andy found the Captain alone in one of the breaks room, perched on top of a table for two. Provenza had wanted to give her an quick update about the case but Andy had moved faster, shooting out of his chair while his partner was still mid-sentence. You snooze, you lose, old man. Clearing his throat, Andy tapped the unlatched door with his knuckles, then pushed it open wider, "Pimp's lawyer should be here in five, Cap'n."

She nodded, staring out into the adjacent room. "I'll be right there."

Andy knew a dismissal when he heard one and moved to shut the door. Somehow he found himself on the inside of the room instead of the outside. "Look, I know it's not my place to have an opinion on this…"

She twisted to face him, expression unreadable, and Andy would have lost his nerve if not for the achingly sad sheen in her eyes. "Lieutenant?"

"I don't trust Dunn." There. He'd said it.

Sharon blinked, pressing her lips together neatly. "It's not just me?"

Andy shook his head.

"I was beginning to think it was all in my head," she admitted softly, "that I was simply being… overprotective."

"The kid's in a good place right now," Andy reassured, taking a few steps towards her. "He's going to school, making friends, but most importantly, he's safe."

"Cynthia's right though." She fiddled with the sleeve of her blazer, tugging the fabric lower around her wrist. "If the DNA test proves that Daniel is Rusty's biological father then he'll have parental rights. Rusty won't have a choice in whether he stays with me or- or doesn't, and he'll probably do what he always does when backed into a corner."

Andy nodded grimly. "He'll run."

Sharon turned back to the window. In the room opposite Rusty was munching his way through a bag of chips, oblivious to the question mark hanging over his near future. "He smiled at me across the breakfast table this morning," she confessed, voice low and halting, like she was imparting a secret even she wasn't sure of. "He was half asleep, hair still damp from the shower, and he was getting toast crumbs everywhere. But he smiled, and his whole face just…" she shook her head, searching for the right word. "He lit up. It's the first time I've seen him like that and now-" Sharon cleared her throat. "I should have known one day that the rules would come back to bite me in the ass."

Andy bit back a chuckle, taking another step towards her. "That's practically blasphemous, coming from you."

She looked at him seriously. "If Daniel puts pressure on Rusty-"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"We?"

He nodded, close enough that he could have pressed a hand to the small of her back if he'd wanted to. "Rusty's part of Major Crimes now. We protect our own."

"I-"

There was a sharp knock at the door. "Lawyer's here," Provenza announced, stepping out of the doorway in a less than subtle hint for them to move.

Sharon hopped off the table neatly, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her pants. Andy watched as she swept her worry about Rusty's future underneath the Captain's impenetrable mask. She made it look easy. "Let's go, Lieutenant."

Provenza shot Andy a questioning glance as they passed – a glance that Andy chose to ignore.


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine: Marinara Sauce

AN: Ep addition set immediately after 1x08 (Dismissed with Prejudice). Shout out to winsome-witch for encouraging me to just go with it, and to glisteningsun10, who poked me about updating :)

* * *

The condo felt empty without him. Usually Sharon would trip over a pair of sneakers on her way to turn off the tv – the latest action thriller hurriedly abandoned after she'd busted him for not finishing his homework first. There'd be a hoodie or a jacket draped across the back of the sofa, scattered chess pieces on the table, and a trail of crumbs along the floor, a sure sign that he had indulged in a sneaky pre-dinner snack, sans plate.

But not today.

Earlier Sharon had watched as Rusty gathered up his things – even the chess board that had become a permanent fixture at the corner her desk – and carried them back to his room. He needed to keep busy he had said, gaze skirting towards the door for the second time in just as many minutes. Sharon, who had been polishing the mirror in the hallway for the third time that hour, understood completely. She had her own (private) reservations about Rusty spending the weekend at Mr. Du- at Daniel's house, but he deserved a chance to get to know his biological father – to make an informed choice about his future. Even if that meant she wouldn't necessarily be in it.

And now he was gone. For the whole weekend. Leaving her alone in the squeaky clean, orderly condo she would have given her right arm for when Rusty had first moved in.

It felt wrong somehow, now.

Shaking herself Sharon forced her legs to carry her out of the living room, collecting her phone from the coffee table as she passed. If Rusty ran into trouble she'd be ready for his call. In the meantime, a soak in the tub would go a long way to soothing her nerves. Expanding on her plan she doubled back to the kitchen for a glass of wine. A small one before dinner wouldn't hurt.

Sharon's pantsuit and underwear puddled on the floor as the bathtub filled. The suit needed to be laundered anyway so she left it where it fell, sliding her hands over the newly-exposed skin with a gentle sigh. She took the time to add a few drops of jasmine and ylang ylang essential oils to the churning water (mentally thanking Emily and Ricky for the gift set they had sent over for her birthday), pinned up her hair, and then, when the tub was nearing full capacity, slipped into the water.

A low moan greeted the rising steam. The temperature was perfect; just the right side of scalding. As an extra treat Sharon turned on the bath jets, arching against the stream of bubbles that hit the knots in her shoulders and lower back. Oh yes… she thought, biting down on her lip as the bubbles hit a particularly sore spot to the left of her spine. A soak in the tub was exactly what she needed.

For ten, blissful minutes Sharon was conscious of nothing more than the heat of the bathwater swirling around her, and the cool, dry crispness of her Pinto-

Vzzzt.

Vzzzt-vzzzt.

Vzzz-

Rusty.

Eyes snapping open, Sharon's arm flung instinctively outwards, towards the vibrating phone. Her fingers connected instead with the wineglass on the tub's edge. She watched, as if in slow motion, as the glass lurched to the right, the pale gold of her Pinot Grigio arching upwards, over the rim, defying gravity as the glass slipped steadily towards the floor… sinking… falling… her own startled reflection glinting back at her in the suddenly empty-

Smash.

"Damn it!"

Scrambling upright, water falling from her body in thick sheets, Sharon was greeted by the jagged glint of shattered glass spread generously across her white tile flooring. She realized with the inevitability of someone who had no footwear within reaching distance that the glass formed an impressive obstacle course between her and the towel rack.

That was going to be fun when her bathwater cooled.

Conscious of her wet hands, Sharon lifted her phone from the side of the tub with care. Surprise bolted through her at the name on the display. "Lieutenant Flynn," she greeted briskly, hand finding her hip. "What is it?"

"Well, a good evening to you too, Captain."

Of all the cocky, sarcastic- "Have we picked up a case?"

There was a short pause on his end. Self-conscious, Sharon wrapped an arm across her breasts, skin prickling in the cooler air. Then, curious, Andy's voice was rumbling through her phone once more. "What's that noise?"

What noi- Oh God. The bath-jets!

"I- I'm near the dishwasher," she managed, frantically palming the off button on the side of the tub. "It's just, ah… finishing up." Why the hell was Andy calling to let her know they'd been rolled out? That was Provenza's job and he never asked her any questions. Resigning herself to another night in the office, she added, "Just text me the address, Lieutenant, and I'll be there as soon as I-"

"This isn't- we haven't picked up a case. I wanted to find out how it was going with Rusty. Kid seemed pretty twitchy about the weekend with his Dad earlier…"

Oh.

"But if this is a bad time…"

It was on the tip of her tongue to make up an excuse and end the call. The conversation was bordering on unprofessional, insubordinate, and she didn't appreciate Andy's presumption that it was acceptable to call her after-hours on what was, essentially, a non-work related matter. And yet… Sharon would have given anything for a sounding board when her kids were Rusty's age.

"One moment."

Muting the call, Sharon lowered herself into the steaming bathwater, shivering slightly at the temperature change against her cooled skin. If she was going to do this, she would at least be physically comfortable. Once she had settled back against the tub, she hesitantly swiped her finger over the unmute button. "Andy?"

"Yeah, I'm here." There was a creaking noise on his end of the line that made Sharon imagine he had stretched out on some sort of sofa. "So. How's the kid doing?"

She pondered where to start. "Well, you already know that Daniel took Rusty and I out to Trattoria Spaghetto a few nights ago."

"How'd that go?"

"It was… a start," she answered diplomatically. "Rusty is very wary of Daniel's intentions – his experience of male relationships so far has not been positive, so he spent a good portion of dinner interrogating-"

"Did he have the marinara sauce?"

Sharon frowned. "Rusty? Yes. Ravioli and marinara sauce. Why?"

When Andy answered she could hear the pride warming his voice. "I recommended it. Thought it would be one less thing for the kid to have to worry about. Italian menus can be intimidating for the uninitiated."

"They can," she agreed, sinking a bit further into the tub as the slow swirl of essential oil danced upon the surface of the bathwater. "Thank you."

"No roblem, Cap'n. Like I said, we look after our own."

She hummed softly. "Rusty said Provenza and Buzz helped him with his tie?"

"Well I don't know if 'helped' is the right word," he deadpanned, and Sharon found herself biting back a chuckle. "Anyway – you were saying before you were so rudely interrupted that the kid was interrogating Daniel?"

"Yes. Some of Rusty's questions were… well, let's just say they put Daniel on the defensive. After dinner we came back to the condo and I attempted damage control. Rusty could barely look at Daniel when we came through the door and Daniel was just as on edge. So, when Rusty ducked into his room to put his rucksack away, I suggested it might smooth things over a bit if Daniel talked about the one thing they both had in common."

"The kid's mother."

"Exactly. And it seemed to work. Rusty stopped seeing Daniel as a potential threat and more as a source of information."

There was more creaking on Andy's end of the line, as if he'd sat up abruptly. "I'm sensing you're still not sure about Dunn, though, Captain."

She sighed, tracing a hand through the water. "I'm not sure what to think anymore. Daniel is trying, and I truly believe that he wasn't aware of Rusty's existence prior to the call from DCFS, but…"

"But your intuition says something's off."

"It does. And I can't shake that feeling."

"So don't," Andy suggested. "Take it from someone who screwed up with his family big time; trust is earned. It'll take time for Dunn to earn Rusty's trust – your trust, and that's not a bad thing. It's a process all relationships have to go through."

Suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation, Sharon cleared her throat. "I, uh, I need to hang up now. Rusty might call if things don't go well with Daniel tonight and I don't want to be tied up on the other line."

"Sure," came the easy reply. If Andy was put out he didn't show it. "Lemme know how it goes."

"Goodnight, Lieutenant."

"Night, Cap'n."

The line went dead.

After the call's termination Sharon stared at her phone's lock screen for longer than she cared to admit, mulling the conversation over. Daniel was trying to establish a relationship with Rusty, which was more than she could say for some fathers she knew… For now, that would have to be enough. Andrew Flynn calling her after 9pm on a Friday night? That was another mystery entirely.

Her stomach chose that moment to remind her she'd skipped dinner, so, filing her thoughts away (for examination later), Sharon rose out of the bath. Shivering in the cool air, she surveyed the scene before her with annoyance – the small, sad splash of wine that appeared to have missed her pantsuit, and the sharp, scattered remnants of what was once her wineglass. Sharon shook her head. Even when Andy was trying to be helpful he was a nuisance!

* * *

End notes: I loved the little moment in Dismissed with Prejudice when Rusty said Daniel Dunn was taking him to Trattoria Spaghetto and Andy poked his head out of electronics to recommend the marinara sauce. I'd completely forgotten about it until my re-watch, but it was such an Andy thing to do… so this chapter was a nod to that. It took getting Sharon trapped in the bath to get to that nod, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make. Hope you enjoyed!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten: Dunn and Dusted**

AN: As this is the last chapter of Stepping Stones set in season one, I'd like to thank everyone who's read and reviewed and followed and favourited, as well as my smashing beta, Olafurneal, for all her hard work. The Major Crimes fandom is such a lovely pool in which to paddle. :) Now, onwards and upwards!

Set right at the end of 01x10 (Long Shot), just after Daniel signs away his parental rights.

* * *

The door closed behind Daniel with a sense of finality and Sharon felt the band of iron that had been constricting her breathing _snap_. The influx of oxygen left her lightheaded, giddy, aware that Andy and the others were talking but unable to grasp the conversation beyond its basic flow and ebb.

He'd signed. Daniel Dunn had signed away his parental rights.

Rusty was safe.

In her peripheral vision Sharon glimpsed the termination of rights form being passed around the team, but her focus was on the young man at her side – the young man who had just watched his biological father walk out of his life forever.

"Guys, Sharon, thank you so much. Thank you," Rusty breathed. He offered a weak smile to the room but Sharon could feel the tension draining from his shoulders under the gentle weight of her hand. "How weird is it that I'm happy to be an orphan?"

The memory of ransacked drawers and a wardrobe bereft of half its clothes washed over her unexpectedly, like a wave from behind. She could almost hear Ricky's plaintive cries when he wouldn't - couldn't - settle at bedtime, could almost feel the heavy weight of Emily's gaze as she stared at the door, evening after evening, waiting…

"You're not an orphan," Sharon reassured firmly, resisting the urge to brush the backs of her fingers across Rusty's cheek. A faint bruise lingered there like a shadow of Daniel's fist, and she wanted nothing more than to be able to wipe it away. "You may not have a mom and a dad, but you are family. You are."

Rusty nodded shyly, glancing towards his shoes. He never knew how to react when Sharon said things like that, but something in her tone of voice made him want to believe her. When he glanced back she was giving him one of those soft summer smiles, the kind that lit up her eyes and warmed him through, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. And then, before he even knew it himself, he was moving – the warmth in his chest sinking into his legs and pushing him forwards-

"Oh-!" Sharon let out a startled gasp as his body connected with hers, the force of it pushing her backwards half a step, but then her arms were wrapping around him, holding him close, letting him know that it was okay. She murmured something unintelligible as his chin came to rest above the narrow strip of her clavicle, his body sagging tiredly against hers.

After a few moments a gruff throat was loudly cleared, reminding them that they were not alone. "Well, I'd say this calls for a celebration!"

They broke apart self-consciously – Rusty more so than Sharon, though he was sure the glossy sheen to her eyes hadn't been there the moment before. "What kind of celebration?" she queried, sliding her Captain's mask back on as she turned towards the source of the interruption expectantly.

Provenza's shoulders rolled into a shrug. "Dinner and drinks at Shot – what else?"

Sharon held his gaze, head tilted, as all eyes in the room turned towards her. A Shot in the Dark, or Shot as it was often shortened, was a cop-friendly watering hole a few blocks east of the PAB. It was local, drinks were cheap, and, barring disagreements, you left your department at the door. Sharon knew that the team met there sometimes, typically after the close of a difficult case, but… "You've never invited me before," she demurred, raising a single eyebrow.

"I- well, you never asked!"

"I asked," Andy admitted quietly.

Provenza rounded on his partner, eyes wide. "You did _what?_ "

"I invited her," Andy clarified, as if doing so was the most natural thing in the world. He met Sharon's amused gaze across the conference room table. "Turned me down flat."

"I, uh, invited the Captain too," Buzz offered, raising his chin a little when Provenza's stare was levelled in his direction. "About a month ago – just after the Loretta case."

Beside him, Amy gave an exaggerated shrug. "I asked the second time we went. Seemed rude not to."

There was a moment's pause as Provenza processed this disturbing news. "Anyone else?" he demanded, scanning the room with a face like a thunderclap. When Julio and Tao both took to examining fixed points above his shoulder, he let out a frustrated huff. " _All_ of you?"

Sharon flicked invisible lint from her sleeve. "I thought it best to wait for the… _appropriate_ invitation, Lieutenant," she soothed. "Besides, I wouldn't want to force anyone to spend their downtime with the boss, now would I?"

She was teasing him Provenza realized belatedly, observing the twitch of her lips and the repressed crinkling at the corner of her eyes. Captain Sharon Raydor was teasing him in front of a team she had somehow managed to wrap around her little finger. And the worst part was he respected her _more_ for it. "Ye gawds, woman-"

"So does Shot have burgers or something?" Rusty cut in, saving the Lieutenant a round or two of sensitivity training.

There were a few amused chuckles from the team, Sharon included. If Rusty had the choice between a week off school and a burger, he'd pick the burger – every time. However, as pleasant as rattling Prozenza's chain was, it was time to end the charade. She suspected that the team, and now Provenza, had invited her to Shot out of a sense of obligation, and she wasn't about to cramp their style. "Rusty," she began softly. "I don't-"

"Sure," Andy interrupted, dark eyes dancing with mischief. "Shot has burgers – double-stacked, with tomatoes, lettuce, red onion, pickles – the works. The fries are pretty good too. They add this paprika and garlic seasoning that's just..." he paused to kiss the tips of his fingers, gaze flickering towards the Captain before he asked, all too innocently, "Why, kid?"

Rusty was wheedling before she had a chance to realize she'd been played.

"Can we go to Shot, Sharon? _Please_?"

Sharon felt a brief stab of annoyance as Rusty turned the puppy-dog eyes on her. She had intended to back out of Provenza's invitation gracefully, with dignity, but Rusty so rarely asked for anything… "Well," she breathed finally, allowing the weight of their multiple invitations to tug at her heart. "I suppose one burger can't hurt."

Rusty's face broke into an immediate grin. "Alright!"

Sharon saw similar expressions filtering across the faces of the team. Her team. "I think the last dregs of paperwork can wait 'til Monday, don't you?" she suggested, gesturing towards the door. "Let's pack up and aim to head out in ten."

"There'll be no working with her after this," Provenza warned, swinging the door open for Amy to exit first, but his words lacked bite. His version of a compliment, Sharon presumed.

As everyone filed out of conference room, Rusty chatting away to Buzz and Andy about the joys of junk food, Sharon allowed herself a moment – moving to collect the all-important legal document occupying the centre of the table. Six signatures sat beneath Daniel Dunn's waive of parental rights. Six. A rush of gratitude flooded her eyes. Some days, it was hard to believe they were the same division she had butted heads with in FID... other days, she had to fight hard not to put them all on probation. She shook her head fondly. Major Crimes was a pain-in-the-ass team, and they still had a long way to go before procedure became more than a scrambled afterthought, but they were most definitely _her_ pain-in-the-ass team. And, if Sharon's time in the LAPD had taught her anything, it was that belonging made all the difference.

* * *

The drive to A Shot in the Dark was short and uneventful. Rusty spent most of it complaining about the amount of homework he had to do over the coming weekend, but Sharon suspected this was mostly to distract himself from feeling awkward about hugging her in front of everyone earlier. She let it slide and encouraged him to pick the radio station, quietly amused by the way he started tapping along to the rhythm of the music on his knee. He'd never done that before, and the idea that he was finally beginning to relax around her touched the quiet longing of her heart.

When they pulled into Shot's busy parking lot, Sharon scanning the stationary vehicles for an empty space, Rusty's tapping abruptly stopped. "Is that Flynn?"

Her eyes followed his line of sight to a lone figure on the other side of the parking lot. It was Flynn indeed – sans tie and jacket, shirt sleeves rolled up, slouched comfortably against the rear of his car like the bodywork had been specifically moulded to fit his shape. From the way he had parked – diagonally across two spaces – it was obvious that he was waiting for them.

"I see him," Sharon confirmed, turning the steering wheel towards the man in question. "And it's _Lieutenant_ Flynn."

"I don't call you Captain Raydor though."

Sharon merely had to glance Rusty's way before he was hastily adding, "Okay, okay – 'respect the law; respect the officers of the law', I get it. Just please don't give me the lecture again…"

Well at least she knew one of their talks had sunk in. Lips twitching, Sharon pulled alongside Andy's vehicle and eased to a stop.

"Thought you were gonna stand us up," Andy joked, as her window slid down.

She made a point of staring at his car, head tilted. "Maybe I should have, if this is the sloppy parking that results."

He grinned, a broad, unrestrained thing, and Sharon found herself momentarily distracted by the way the late evening light picked out the silver in his hair. "No valet. What's a lowly law enforcement officer to do?"

When Rusty snorted, Sharon swiftly decided to move the conversation along. "Perhaps you'd better have another go, Lieutenant," she suggested, sliding her car into reverse and beginning to back up. Andy seemed to get the message, shooting her a quick "Aye, Cap'n" before disappearing into his vehicle.

Once both cars were appropriately parked, Rusty rolling his eyes as Sharon explained the potential ramifications of parking outside the legally defined markings, Andy surprised her by trotting over to open the driver's door for her. "Captain Raydor, Ma'am."

She slid out of the car with a slight frown but made no comment about his… behaviour. Unperturbed, Andy wandered over to Rusty who had been allowed to exit the car unaided, and struck up a conversation about the different kinds of milkshake Shot served. Apparently there were several variations to choose from. Shouldering her purse, Sharon followed the pair towards the bar-restaurant's entrance with minimal trepidation about the evening to come.

They crossed the threshold together, instantly submerged in the river of sound flowing around the room; ice clinking in glasses, the low rumble of conversation, steak sizzling on the grill behind the bar… Sharon let Andy lead the way to what she assumed was the team's usual table, trailing some distance behind him and Rusty as she took in the room.

Shot had apparently changed very little in the last thirty years. The same dark panelling lined the walls as had on her last visit, accented by leather booths (now a rich burgundy instead of black) and a smattering of high-top tables, near the bar. Despite the surprised stares from several LAPD patrons scattered across the room, Sharon found the place to be just as warm and inviting as when she was a rookie.

"Like what you see?"

Andy had doubled back for her, his after-work look now completed by a toothpick that sat in the corner of his mouth. Sharon, of the opinion that toothpicks should be used and then discarded, promptly, ignored the childish urge to flick it away. "There are more female patron's now," she answered, taking in the room again with no small amount of satisfaction. "So yes, Andy – I like what I see."

"You've been here before then?"

"Once or twice." When his eyebrows shot up in surprise, Sharon let out a chuckle – a low, pleasant thing that Andy decided he'd like to hear again. "Is that so hard to believe?" She shook her head, almost wistful. "It was a long time ago – before I was the Wicked Witch."

Andy just about managed to avoid swallowing the toothpick as he choked on his own damn saliva.

"You know, the nickname never bothered me," Sharon continued calmly, as if remarking about the weather or the results of the Super Bowl while her subordinate wasn't coughing up half a lung beside her. "It was a compliment, in its own way. It meant I was doing my job."

Through his wheezing, Andy caught her side-glance as she assessed the damage she'd caused.

"Anyway, we'd best not keep everyone waiting. I'd hate to see what your partner looks like with low blood sugar."

He managed a weak nod as she turned on her heel and headed for the correct booth, greeting the team warmly.

Damn, but she was good.

When he joined the table, slipping silently into the empty seat between Tao and Buzz, Provenza thrust a cold cranberry and soda in his direction. "We ordered while you were horsing around. Hope you wanted the veggie burger."

Andy scowled at the insinuation, making sure the Captain was engrossed in conversation with Rusty before quietly snapping, "I wasn't horsing around, Louis. She _knows_."

Provenza took a long swallow from his beer, smacking his lips appreciatively. "Knows what, Flynn?"

"About a certain nickname…."

Tao's ears pricked up. "You mean the Wicke-" he was cut off by a well-timed kick to the shin. "Ow. I guess I deserved that."

"Keep your voice down," Andy hissed, shooting a furtive glance towards the Captain. "Yes, 'that' nickname. What other nickname would I be talking about?"

"Calm down," Provenza said dismissively, taking another long swallow of beer. "Of course she knows. It was her job to know. She knew everything. That was why we hated her."

"Hated, past tense?" Buzz queried, rolling his half empty glass between his fingers.

Provenza's ears reddened. "Well- I- Just look at her," he grumbled, jerking his head towards the Captain, who was currently in conversation with Julio and Amy. Three booming guffaws hit the table and Andy was surprised to see Julio's face creased with laughter at something Raydor had said. "If she can win over Julio, and the kid, then she can't be all bad."

"Plus he's realized how much paperwork he'd have to deal with if he was in charge," Tao joked, earning an appreciative smirk from Buzz.

"But do you think she knows that _I_ made up the nickname?"

The three men paused, looking at Andy suspiciously. "Why do you care?" Provenza asked, eyes narrowed.

"I don't," Andy snapped, beginning to get annoyed.

"Well, good."

"Good."

"Great!"

Tao's mumbled 'oh boy' merged with Buzz's longsuffering sigh. Luckily, the bickering was cut short by the arrival of their meals. The table fell silent as everyone became engrossed in eating, brains turning off as appetites took over. Andy found himself staring over at the Captain as he took his first bite of burger, barely noticing the hit of lime salsa spread liberally over across his burger buns. She'd gone for Shot's twist on a Caesar Salad – with garlic shrimp instead of chicken – or rather Rusty must have, as she'd been with him 'horsing around' when everyone else had ordered.

Sensing a pair of eyes on her, Sharon looked up from spearing a croton. Andy lifted his drink in acknowledgement and she responded in kind, breaking eye contact to gently nudge Rusty, beside her. "Don't you have something you want to say to Lieutenant Flynn?"

Rusty, who was by now more than halfway through his double stacked cheeseburger, and busy licking the grease from his fingers, froze. It was a classic Sharon question, one that he had the feeling he was supposed to instinctively know the answer to… and yet didn't. "Uhhh, yeah." His delay drew the attention of the table, and Rusty latched onto the first thing that popped into his head. "Lieutenant, you've got a little salsa on your chin."

His comment was met with resounding silence. Andy blinked, lifting a hand to wipe his face. As his fingers encountered the smudge of condiment just under the swell of his lip, something between a peal of laughter and a snort escaped the Captain. She clamped a hand over her mouth, green eyes wide with embarrassment, but it was too late.

The table exploded with laughter, the Captain's stifled laughter merging with Julio's booming guffaws and Amy's erratic, breathless hiccupping. It was enough to make Rusty join in, though he wasn't quite sure what everyone had found so funny. Wiping her watering eyes, Sharon leaned over to explain, good-naturedly. When he finally cottoned on, shoulders shaking as he hid his head in his hands, she let herself go properly, laughter bubbling up from her belly and spilling out into the evening air.

As her laughter triggered a resurgence of the team's, Sharon was flooded with a sense of family chosen, of lingering grudges dissolving into something new and pliable, of knots working themselves free. Her past with the Major Crimes division had not been the stumbling block she'd expected but, rather, a stepping stone, and she was now quietly optimistic about their future together.

It felt good.


End file.
